


Death of a Star: Supernova

by nerdbird26



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Gen, Internal Monologue, Mentions of other characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 21:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19777117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdbird26/pseuds/nerdbird26
Summary: Fiona has a self reflection session the day before he moves into the Fakes’ penthouse.





	Death of a Star: Supernova

She was ready. She knew she was ready. She was born ready. There was no doubt about it.

The last of her meager savings had gone into her stay at this little cheap motel. She only had one petit suitcase worth of belongings on her. She stood in front of the grimy mirror of the dimly lit bathroom in her room. Her hard eyes stared back at themselves. Her hair was firey red, hanging around her shoulders like a waterfall suspended in time. She had a death grip on the counter, and behind her closed mouth, her teeth were clamped together.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Tomorrow would change. Matt Bragg, the hacker with a streak of blue-green running through his hair, would pick her up and drive through the crime infested streets of Los Santos and drop her off onto the front steps of the penthouse. The Fakes’ penthouse.

She’s never seen the penthouse, not even from afar. She wouldn’t have ever imagined even stepping inside of it. But she was ready.

No matter how much of a nasty reputation the Fakes had in Los Santos, no matter how many banks they’ve robbed or gangs they’ve killed or weapons they had, they didn’t scare her. Not even a shiver up her spine. No.

Not even when they had found her at the bar on the edge of town, sitting alone in a booth, drink in hand. They had slipped in and no one seemed to notice, or care, or maybe the did and they were just too scared of what would happen next. Either way, they came in and found their target.

The Kingpin, aka Geoff Ramsey, a guy wearing a classy black and white suit and an impressive mustache, and arms decked out in tattoos, slipped into the seat in front of her. Then, the Mama Bear, or Jack Pattillo, a woman with red shoulder length hair and a Hawaiian shirt, sat next to the Kingpin. Standing besides her table was another cast of characters.

The Demolition Man, Michael Jones. The Golden Boy, Gavin Free. Rimmy Tim, Jeremy Dooley. The Vagabond, Ryan Haywood. They were all names and faces she knew from the news and from gossip. The Fakes.

Any enemy of the Fakes would have pissed their pants if they were faced with all six of them like this. Really, anybody with some knowledge of them would have been shaking in their boots by now. Not Fiona. Never.

She already had an idea of why they were here. Two days before, she had ran into some guy who had robbed the Fakes of some very valuable weapons, along with drugs, cash, and one of Rimmy Tim’s cars. Of course she recognized the guy immediately due to some intel from a couple of friends who knew everything about the local gangs.

As she was walking down the street, the man had snatched her by the arm, pulled her into an alleyway, held a knife to her neck, and demanded that she give up all her money. This wasn’t the first time some asshat had threatened to rob her like this. She was no amateur. With quick easy, she managed to pull the knife away from her neck, snapped the man’s wrist, and then his neck.

She then proceeded to take the man’s car keys, dumped his body into the trunk, then searched the car for clues. She managed to find out where he lived and the location of the gang he worked for, which also happened to be where all the stolen supplies were kept. After a few calls, she told a close friend, Alfredo, to send a message to the Fakes, telling them to “try harder next time.”

She remembered how Geoff leaned in close, his tattooed hands clasped in front of him, his voice a deep whisper. “You want us to ‘try harder next time?’”

Her voice didn’t stammer or quiver once. “For your own sake, and the sake of your team, yeah. I would love for you to try harder.”

And he had actually laughed. Genuinely cracked a smile. “What’s you’re name?”

“Fiona.”

“Well, Fiona, a little birdie told me that you had skills. Skills that would be very useful to us. Is that right?”

“Is snapping necks a useful skill? Then yes, I would be very useful.”

He pulled out a slip of paper from the pocket of his suit. “Pack your stuff, go to this motel. I’ll send someone to get you in the morning.” He slid the paper over the her. Fiona only glanced at it, never actually touching it. And with that, the group of six filed out of the bar, leaving Fiona with an empty drink and a slip of paper with the motel’s address.

She released her grip from the counter. She tied her hair into a ponytail, looked in the mirror one last time, and left the bathroom, shutting off the light on her way out.

Tonight she would sleep on a dirty mattress in a worn down motel. Tomorrow she would rule the world. She would drive down the streets of Los Santos in the fastest and fanciest cars. She would live and work alongside the Fakes. She would snap necks.

Fiona layed down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She thought and wondered and imagined and dreamed, as if she was a little girl all over again. And she smiled. Wide. She wouldn’t be just another Fake. She was Supernova.

Super fucking nova.

Tomorrow would be an explosion, and all of Los Santos will know who Fiona Nova is. Did anyone think that she was going to become nothing more than a pretty girl on the streets?

No. No fucking way.


End file.
